The Witching Hour

Chapter Three

Vivienne De Chantel went to Primrose, the second-best school for witches in the world. She was a prefect, one of the highest-scoring students in her year. Every evening in her dorm she pored over dozens of textbooks. She didn't need to be the best, and she didn't want to, but if their school was going to beat Rosewood this year, she had to study.

Often the other girls in their dorm studied too; they were, after all, the top of all their classes. Most nights, even if Vivienne stayed up the latest, Claire had her textbooks laid out, and spent most of her free time writing in note-taking books.

Tonight was like any other. Vivienne sat alone at the rectangular table, with the other girls getting into bed. She chewed a mint from the plant on the counter to make her breath fresher. They'd left that there earlier this year, because it was nice to always smell clean.

"Still working?" Claire asked, coming up behind her and putting a hand on her shoulder. Vivienne felt the warmth of her palm. She wore only a thin tank top, and one of the straps had fallen down off her shoulder. Her arm felt naked under the gentle pressure of Claire's touch.

"Yeah," Vivienne said. "I need to study for tomorrow, and memorize a timeline, and copy my botany notes for Lucy."

Claire's fingers went to Vivienne's dirty blonde hair, pulling it back in a ponytail. Messy, but it felt so much cooler.

"I can copy if you want," Claire offered, scooting into the chair beside her. Vivienne shook her head. "No, you should sleep. You won't do as well on the test tomorrow if you're tired."

"Neither will you." Claire smiled, gently easing the botany notes from her hand.

Vivienne shook her head, somewhat annoyed and somewhat relieved. It was overwhelming, and even if she would end up doing much of the copying anyway, it was nice to know Claire wanted to help.

"Go to bed, Vivi," Claire said. It had been hours since they'd sat down to work, and Claire was in bed now, having thoroughly exhausted herself. She lay on her side, head propped up by her hand, looking at Vivienne.

"I just need to finish this chapter," Vivienne said.

She knew there was pressure on all the girls, but she felt it more than the rest of them. Her cousin–who was her legal guardian–was disappointed enough that she hadn't gotten into Rosewood. If she lost her stand as prefect and didn't make it to head girl, he'd send her somewhere like Genoa's or Tuesday Academy. Tuesday wasn't even in the top five schools. It was the seventh best, and it was all the way in Wales.

Vivienne had took the blow too when she didn't get into Rosewood. But now she couldn't imagine leaving Primrose. She'd been here for five years now, since year one. All her friends were here, all her favorite places and things to do. The towers, where her dorm had been before she'd become a prefect. The gardens, where she'd first kissed a girl. The lake, where–never mind, the lake was a bad place.

Vivienne's eyes blurred as she finished the chapter. Time for bed now, she told herself.

The lake was definitely a bad place. Vivienne tried not to look at it as she walked out of the exam. She'd passed, of course. Second-highest score in her grade. She didn't know who was first. She was used to being second, and she enjoyed it. Better than being nothing.

She stole a glance at the clear water, shining in the afternoon rays. What was so bad about it, really? That memory was one of her happiest. It was like all of her memories of him had been covered in dark ink, the ink that exploded when it first happened. And again last February. Now everything was tainted.

She needed a distraction. There was nothing. She trudged back into the castle. Up the steps, quickly, three and then a pause, four and another pause. Down the hall she used to walk every day, past the door that still had her name, etched in the door frame, along with those of thousands of other girls who'd once slept in that room.

There was his door. There was his name, much bigger than the rest because he had pride like no other. The four letters intertwined with the names around them, covered some up. "Andreas" turned to "ndre".

Vivienne traced the doorknob. She could count each time she'd touched it. Year three, when he'd first said hello and invited her over. Year three, when she came back to get her homework. Year four, when they'd celebrated together. Year four, when she'd slammed it against his gloating face. That was the last time.

Maybe he was inside the room right now.

Down the rest of the hall and there were the stairs. This was another place she always went, but she'd never brought him here. Finally somewhere that didn't scream his name.

Vivienne sighed and sat down against the round stone wall, underneath the window. The windows up here had no glass. They were chunks of nothing. You could fall if you weren't careful. But Vivienne was always careful.

After February, she'd wished he fell out this very window. Her thoughts had been darkest that month and the weeks that came after. She'd wished a lot of things on him. She'd also wished some on herself.

But then Claire had found her and helped her, even if it was inconvenient. Claire was the best friend everyone dreamed of. And her faults weren't harmful, just endearing. Like how sometimes she promised to do things and fell asleep instead.

Vivienne smiled. Claire was wonderful. Probably her favorite person. And beautiful, too. Her hair was straight and shoulder-length, a honey-brown color that made her big hazel eyes gleam.

That hair. Vivienne had always been jealous. The way it fell into place, just glided over her shoulders. Vivienne's hair was always messy and tangled.

No doubt Claire had seen her come up here. She was probably waiting below the staircase to smile and walk Vivienne back to the dorm, arm around her shoulder.

Yes, she was. There was the bright smile.

"Hi, Vivi. Sorry I followed you," Claire said, waiting for Vivienne to reach the last stair. Not rushing her, not leaving without her.

"It's fine. I get why you did." This was true. The last time Vivienne was up here, it was when Claire found her.

"I'm just fucking angry," Vivienne continued. That was all there was to say. She was angry, and Claire would listen if she wanted to talk. But she didn't.

This time it was Vivienne who put an arm around Claire. She knew how bad Claire felt for not knowing, and not helping. But she had helped. More than she knew.

"You're so amazing," Vivienne whispered. She didn't know if Claire heard, but it had come out before she could stop it in a sudden rush of feeling. She could never tell Claire how important she was. How much she would give for her. How much she would throw away if Claire needed her to.

Claire's wool scarf, the dark teal-forest-green of the Primrose school uniform, billowed out around them. They walked down the hallway, laughing about something. Vivienne's eyes lingered on the door, and the name, Owen. She walked on, and at some point she let go of Claire.

Claire was really her favorite, she knew. Her favorite everything. She stared at her friend's face. Claire was telling some sort of joke. She didn't notice the words, but she noticed the way her mouth moved when she laughed. She didn't register the hand motions, but she liked the way Claire talked so animatedly about anything.

Maybe someday Claire would look this way at her.